Page 136 of Pretty Little Scars

“Maybe.” He nods and my heart falls when he pulls a whip off the barn wall. “Sure was a shame, what happened to you with that whip. Looked like it hurt real bad.”

“You’re not going to whip me.”

My voice soundsvicious. Because I feel vicious. I’m so fucking livid that he would have the audacity to evenconsiderthreatening me with a goddamn whip.

Never again.

“The thing is,” he says as he lets the leather uncoil and fall in one long strip to the dirt floor, “that I can do whatever the fuck I want with you right now. There’s no one to help you. No one to hear you scream.”

I can’t hear you if you scream when I’m out with the herd.

I’m truly fucked. I don’t see how I get out of this unscathed because Peter’s right. And that terrifies me down to the marrow of my goddamn bones.

“Ah, it’s finally sinking in,” he says, nodding and smiling that sick smile. “I told you before, I like it when you’re scared of me. It’s exciting. Those pretty blue eyes of yours get wide, and you go a little pale, and fuck if it isn’t sexy as hell.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will.” He winks at me and cracks the whip, making me jump. “I wonder what it is with you and these whips. It’s just a strip of leather, you know.”

He cracks it again, and I feel myself start to shake, and I desperately want to hide the fact that he’s scaring me because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“What would you rather?” he asks. “A whipping or a good fucking? Because I’ll bet that Tucker doesn’t give it to you the way you should get it. You should be fucked like the little whore you are.”

“I’m not a whore.”

“Oh, sure you are.” He tsks, as if he’s disappointed in me. “I bet you spread those pretty thighs for Tucker any time he wants, don’t you?”

I refuse to answer him. I need to just shut my mouth because no matter what I say, it’s not going to change this.

It’s not going to stop him.

He snaps the whip again, and it almost hits me. I can feel the burst of air from it, and I can’t hold the whimper in because the memories are starting to come to the surface, and I can’t have that.

I need to keep my wits about me.

I back up until my shoulders hit the stall behind me, and I feel leather against my hands.

A bridle.

Could I lash out and trip him? Hurt him?

I have to do something, otherwise I’m a sitting duck.

“I think?—”

He cracks the whip, and I take the bridle off the wall and lash out. It wraps around his leg and I tug, making him fall back, and the air is knocked out of him, and I don’t pause for even a heartbeat.

I run.

“You fuckingbitch!”

I don’t look back as I sprint out of the barn toward the house, adrenaline racing through me as I pump my legs as fast as I can. My phone is in the garden, but I can lock myself in the house, and I decide that’s the best thing to do. I can hide there, at least.

Just as I come around the corner, I’m knocked down from behind, and this time, the air is knocked frommylungs and I can’t pull in a breath as he turns me over, pins me, my hands above my head, and punches me in the face, but I kick my knee up and catch him in the balls, making him scream like a little fucking girl.

“You’re going to die for that.”

“I’m too mean to die,” I reply. His hands loosened on mine when I kneed his family jewels, and I claw at his face, my fingers pushing into his eyes, and he starts to scream more, but I don’t stop.